Security Risk
by RhyannD
Summary: A Diplomatic mission gone awry, the Captain and the Doctor.     Paramount owns 'em, I just borrow them.
1. Chapter 1

She didn't want to wake up.

Consciousness returned in pieces. She was deliciously warm, limbs heavy with lethargy. Her shoulder ached slightly... she remembered the glancing blow of the phaser catching her.

The heat emanated at her back, conforming along her hips, downward behind her legs. A large hand was spread softly against her abdomen, forming her to the shape behind her.

She smiled. Then she concentrated on keeping her breathing light and even, lest she wake her personal furnace.

For his part, Jean-Luc was already awake. He had not moved, for fear of scaring her off. She had walked away from him before. This time, he would not let that happen.

Why had he not seen what had been eminently clear to aliens they had only met just the day before? His weakness, the chink in his armor, the leverage that could bring him to his knees...

Their mission to Omnia VI had been fairly straightforward. The planet had recently come to the attention of the Jem'Hadar, and the two main factions on the planet now had to come together in order to fight the new threat. The Federation would only help a unified force. A treaty had been started, it was up to the Captain to mediate the last few sticking points.

The Omnians were a proud people, with a long history of isolation and war, partially fueled by ancient geographical divides. While humanoid, they were closer to the Jem'Hadar than any other humanoid species. Thick scales protected them; three long curved fingers and a slender opposing appendage ended in strong, razor sharp talons. An oval shaped skull came to a spiny ridge on top, which extended down the front of the face where a human's nose would be. Tiny breathing holes opened to either side, just above the mouth, which had beak-like upper and lower projections, and a purplish-black tongue.

Eyes were large, with vertical elliptical pupils, surrounded by irises of brilliant shades of yellow, green, blue or purple. An extra eyelid of translucent blue protected them from the harsh glare of full daylight. The slow, graceful blink rate of their exterior eyelids gave them an aura of elegance and thoughtfulness, especially when the blink was a deliberate gesture.

Where the Jem'Hadar made one think of dinosaurs or the ancient rhinoceros of Earth, the Omnians made one think of dragons. Their scales were iridescent, changing from brilliant green to peacock blue, to a rich violet, even glimmering to gold depending on the time of day and the light from the two suns or three moons gracing the planet's lavender skies.

While Omnia possessed advanced technology, much of the rural areas of the planet still had a decidedly primordial feel. Lush vegetation and wildly colourful flowers took over every square inch of space outside of the cities. You could be steps from a population center, and be surrounded by foliage and fruit and feel like you were miles from contact with another sentient being.

The Ominans had agreed readily to allow Doctor Crusher to beam down in order to survey and sample the teeming plant life. Beverly was delighted with the diversion-a busman's holiday for her.

The small away team had beamed down in early morning Omnia time. The Captain had a full security detail of four, ostensibly for the threat of Jem'Hadar, but the history between the two factions on the planet was protracted and bloody. The majority of both sides were coming together in agreement, seeing the benefit for everyone, but well equipped, small cabals of dissent were clearly active.

Data would accompany Beverly. They had come to a fragile truce on the point of security for her. She felt that having her own security would simply draw more attention to herself. He felt the planet's history obliged such precaution. They had argued over yesterday's breakfast, a rare occasion of raised voices.

When she had stood to stalk out of his quarters in all of her redhead fury, throwing her napkin down, he blurted out the one confession guaranteed to assuage her anger. "I could not live with myself if something happened to you down there."

The words had been torn from him, his voice gravelly. She sat down on the chair, the air deflated out of her, blue eyes captured by his mossy green. The petulant part of her temper-not used to being so easily doused-wondered if it were anyone else if he would be so adamant.

Then she grasped just *exactly* what he had said.

She could tell he regretted it already. Regretted telling a secret out of turn. Regretted letting his facade of indifference slip. She would not. She had hurt him deeply after Kes-Prytt, though it had not been her intention. It had taken months to overcome.

Breakfast had only become an unspoken daily appointment again just a few weeks ago.

"I'm sorry." She said, softly. With anyone else on the crew there would not even have been an argument, it would simply have been an order. "I did not realize quite the importance of the matter to you." She still did not break contact with his gaze.

He clenched his jaw, no use closing the barn doors now, the horse was well away... "Perhaps having Mr. Data accompany you would be a sufficient compromise?" There was steel underneath the silky suggestion.

"Ever the diplomat, Jean-Luc." Her eyes softened, her heart softened, this was why she loved the man. "I would welcome Mr. Data's company." And she did love him. For all the times she had screwed up, the times she had tried to fill the void inside of her with someone else, finding the empty spot still remained, somewhere beneath her heart... his awkward admission revealed to her she still had a chance.

This time she had to get it right.

They parted with a different kind of tension in the air.

The Captain was distracted. He sat in his ready room, reviewing the treaty as it stood so far. When he read the same paragraph for the fourth time in a row, and still did not retain any meaning from it, he placed the padd down with a sigh. He stood and paced to the viewport. The planet glowed below them, hues of purple and teal washed with white clouds.

Where to go from here. He was tired of waiting, and yet, his attempts to assuage his need had been spectacularly unsuccessful. While at the time he did mean what he told Nella Darren about conflict of interest, he had also become acutely aware of her resemblance to a certain other redhead. Physically. But the exterior is where the resemblance ended. She was brilliant in her field, but had none of the caring and compassion Beverly had. Her drive for self-promotion was diametrically opposed to Beverly's innate selflessness.

And he did mean it when he said he would have trouble sending her on dangerous missions-because his mind fought his heart *every time* Beverly went on a risky away team...

With a sigh, he ruthlessly pushed the circular argument to the back of his consciousness. He would not regret what he had said this morning, he would leave the ball in her court.

Thus resolved, he returned to the treaty.


	2. Chapter 2

Breakfast the next morning was surprisingly comfortable, both tacitly avoiding the previous day's disagreement. Beverly asked questions about the opposing governments and the treaty. Her excitement at the prospect of new biological finds was contagious. It was with a light step and smiles the away team beamed planetside, the previous day's argument clearly forgotten.

Beverly was not expecting the beauty of the Omnians to be so compelling. The natural light of the first sun refracted on the scales of the diplomatic team in resplendent colours.

Jean-Luc was captivated by her smile. Unconsciously he moved closer to her, enjoying her delight at her first contact with the Omnians. He had been similarly awed by the almost mythical beings.

Formal introductions were made, the Omnia-Upper Ambassador introducing his team, the Omnia-Lower Prefect presenting his, and the Captain indicating Doctor Crusher, Commander Data, and the Security Detail. Introductions were acknowledged with a slight bow. Beverly imagined human contact with the Omnian talons could be disastrous.

The Captain was whisked away with diplomatic efficiency. A tall, slender Omnian, dressed in a simple tunic of browns and muted greens graciously directed Data and the Doctor to a land shuttle to take them to their first destination, the main city's botanical gardens.

The morning passed all too quickly for Beverly. Even counting for the longer time between breaks thanks to the twin suns, she was regretful when their escort returned for them. They were shuttled to the Capitol, and shown to a cool room with a long table set for lunch.

Jean-Luc looked up when she entered. The radiance in her smile helped ease some of the morning's weariness. She was obviously enjoying her work more than he was enjoying his. Not wanting to be rude, he continued the conversation he had been having with one of the Prefect's First Councillors. When the Doctor inconspicuously slid into the empty chair next to him, he absently reached out with his hand to acknowledge her presence without turning from the question the First Councillor was asking. His hand rested for long moments on her thigh.

The unexpected-but far from unwelcome-contact set the Doctor to low simmer. She was sure the Captain had not even been aware of his gesture. _She_ was aware of it from the roots of her hair to her toenails. His reluctant utterance had given her hope that she had not ruined her last chance.

They were served a lunch of incredible roasted vegetables, with a crusty, chewy bread. The fruits for dessert were reminiscent of tropical fruits and melons from Earth. As usual, the Doctor endeared herself to her hosts with her genuine appreciation and interest in their planet.

So it came as no surprise when she was invited to the formal dinner planned for the evening. She glanced at the Captain, saw the slightly panicked entreaty in his gaze, and smiled, "Of course," to their hosts.

When they had a few moments before the afternoon session, they stood close enough so he would not be overheard by anyone. "You do not have to come to the dinner tonight..."

She knew how much he hated such affairs. "I said I would, and I will." The smile she gave him was knowing.

"Thank you." He said, quietly, his voice laden with meaning.

Her smile grew and her eyebrow rose. "I think you will owe me... "

A matching eyebrow rose in return, his hazel eyes sparkling, "Really, Doctor..."

They were almost touching, intimately alone in a hall full of people. "Really, Captain." Her blue eyes darkened, her grin turned devilishly mischievous. Clearing her throat, she continued, "I will have to beam up to clean up and change, since I'm going to tramp around the flora and fauna this afternoon. What time will you be picking me up?"

He uncharacteristically had to clear his throat before speaking. "1845 ship's time."

"Good." She nodded. "Have a fun afternoon," she finished with that devious grin as she turned to find Data and their escort.

He watched her walk away, not noticing the Ambassador's Aide who had been apparently trying to get his attention. He sternly marshaled his thoughts away from a certain Doctor's backside, and back to the treaty.


	3. Chapter 3

The Doctor chose a simple evening gown in deep, rich green. The lines were classic, transcending time and fashion. High in the front, with a square neck, the back plunged daringly. A nipped in waist followed her hips, then flowed like the flute of a flower to just below her calves.

She twisted her hair up, allowing what appeared to be random curls to artfully fall. For jewelry she simply wore a pair of Myonian pearl earrings Jean-Luc had given her.

Her announcer chirped at precisely 1845 hours ship's time. She faced the door, keeping the secret of her dress hidden when she invited him in. As expected, he had left the collar of his dress tunic for her to do up. The habit made her smile. She often wondered how he managed on missions alone...

He walked into her quarters a few steps, fussing with his cuffs, then looked up at her. He stopped dead. His obvious appreciation drew a huge sparkling smile. "Captain, could I help you with your collar?"

"Indeed." His voice was a little rough. "You look... stunning, Beverly." He told her as she stepped up to fasten his uniform. A delicate scent rose up around him with her approach. Something sweet and... almost wistful... like a summer night.

"There." She announced, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "You look very Captainly, Captain." She grinned. He hated the formal tunic, but she had a soft spot for the fancy gold braiding and the high collar. Of course, she avoided wearing *hers* whenever possible, but relished occasions to see him in one.

Well used to the routine, he put his hand out, palm up. She deposited her communicator badge and a small tube of lipstick, which he stowed in his uniform jacket's inner pocket. It was only as he paused to allow her to step through the door ahead of him that he caught sight of the back of her dress-or rather, the lack thereof...

"Merde." he blew out softly.

Confident in the desired effect, she turned back to him. "Problem?" Her eyebrow arched.

"Absolutely not." His eyes were a deep mossy green, and what she read in them was promising. He didn't even wait until they were in the privacy of the lift before placing a palm on her lower back. A delightful shiver went up her spine. "Chilled?" He asked, solicitously, his own brow arched only slightly.

"Not in the least." She smiled at him. "In fact, I think I'm just starting to warm up."

His smile matched hers, the negotiations would be formidable this evening, and that had nothing to do with the treaty.

=^=  
>"Thank you, Beverly, for coming tonight." The two walked casually toward her quarters, bumping elbows artlessly. The Captain had used every excuse to touch the expanse of freckled back exposed by her dress.<p>

The Doctor had charmed politicians on both sides, and kept him delightfully distracted from the drawn out, formal speeches each side made. It *was* a momentous occasion, the coming together of two sides never before united. And he always felt a bit of awe that he was living such historic events. But at some point, all formal political functions began to resemble each other; After the speeches, after the ceremony, but before it was time to politely escape.

Her presence made it eminently more bearable.

He was aware of the light touch of her fingers curling inside the crook of his elbow whenever she rejoined him. Her palm had practically burned through his trousers when she placed it on his thigh when leaning close to speak to him at the dinner table. He could not mistake that she leaned closer to him when he placed that possessive, puissant hand on her back.

There had not been dancing, just soothing, pleasing background music. For once, he was disappointed. As much as he professed to dislike dancing, he savored the times he could dance with *her.*

Finally the speeches had been finished-including his own brief observations-the last toast drunk, and it was late enough to courteously bid their leave.

And now he found himself wanting the evening to not end. The easy way they fit together made him long for the night when he would not leave her at her door. Knowing he had final negotiations in the morning, he had to put duty above personal want... need...

He could not resist one last, long stroke of his hand down her bare spine as they stopped just beyond the motion sensors of her door. For once, he had no idea who else might be in the corridor, nor did he care. She swayed into him, half-turning to face him. Her palms rested on his chest.

"Would you like a nightcap?" Her voice was soft, tentative. A far cry from the teasing vixen who had left this doorway hours earlier.

He groaned, letting his fingers wander her warm skin. "Beverly... I would like *nothing* more than that... "

"But..." She inserted, eyes downcast.

"But..." he repeated, touching his forehead to hers, "I have to go over the changes the delegates made today, in preparation for the final draft tomorrow."

"I know." She said, sadly. "I know." Her voice was quiet. She tipped her head back from his, and raised her fingers to his lips. Her eyes were suspiciously shiny when she asked, "Will there ever be a right time for us Jean-Luc?"

He trapped her fingers inside his own, and brought them back to his lips. "We will make the time. I promise." And his eyes were full of that promise. Before he could change his mind, before he could drown in the pools of her blue eyes, he lightly kissed her forehead, then pulled away from her. He didn't look back until he was in the lift. When he turned, she was still standing there, watching him. He smiled as the lift doors closed.


	4. Chapter 4

The Captain had a working breakfast conference, so the away team beamed down just as the first sun was rising on Omnia. The Doctor and Data were slated to visit the main trauma center in the morning. They would return to the Capitol for lunch with the Captain and four Security Officers.

The morning once again went by far too swiftly for the Doctor. The Omnians had very advanced methods of combining the plethora of healing plants and herbs on their planet with innovative technology. Because of the protective scales, they dealt with very few injuries like lacerations or punctures; on the other hand, the torrid temperatures, especially along the planet's equator, brought a host of different health issues for the reptilian humanoids.

The Doctor who was their escort was articulate and passionate about his work. He shared insight as to how the two factions on the planet had grown so vastly different. There was not only ocean separating the two major land masses, but mountains and desert. Until the advent of air travel, the two cultures had been virtually isolated. The rare seagoing vessels that might make the crossing, usually did not return to their origin. Both sides were surprised by the differences in beliefs, religion and political structure which had evolved. Neither wanted to change their traditions to the others'. When it became clear they needed to unify to protect the entirety of their world from outside forces, the true battles began over everything from which alphabet to use, to what to call the continents.

The tall Doctor's yellow-gold eyes filled with sorrow as he described the cost of extremist actions. The majority of the population were willing to compromise, but a few took it upon themselves to use guerilla tactics to disrupt all attempts at unification.

Beverly was fascinated watching the Omnian Doctor work with his tools and instruments. His long fingers were incredibly facile.

It seemed like they had only just arrived when their escort announced it was lunch time. They returned to the same long, cool room where they had eaten the day before. As she entered, she automatically sought out one figure in the wood paneled space. As soon as she saw him, as if feeling her eyes on him, he glanced away from the conversation he was having and met her gaze. Their glances caught only for a moment, but volumes seemed to be exchanged between them.

She was seated again on his right. They approached the table at the same time, and he held her chair out for her. She loved the small, archaic gestures that were so much a part of him. Things like opening a door, or holding a coat... conventions that had fallen out of fashion as the expense of gender equality.

He looked tired. Not just tired, she decided, but weary. She knew he had returned to work last night even after the late hour they had beamed aboard. She lightly touched his arm as he sat. "Rough morning?" She asked, quietly enough for only him to hear.

"We are almost there." He said, his sigh expressive. "They *are* trying."

Knowing he needed a break from the pulls of the politicians around him, she monopolized his attention during the meal with tales from her tour of the trauma center. Since she did much of the talking, he was actually able to eat a decent meal, something he had not been able to do the previous day, or at the banquet last night.

Because the days were long on Omnia, lunches were kept leisurely, a chance to recharge for the afternoon ahead. Without being rude, the Captain and the Doctor lingered over a fragrant, tea-like stimulant drink served with fruit after the meal.

"Thank you," he said, hazel eyes warm on hers. "I needed a break."

Her smile was brilliant with pleasure. "You looked like you did."

"Was that a professional opinion, Doctor?" An eyebrow rose in teasing.

"Maybe..." She seemed as if she were going to say more, but broke off. She lifted the warm drink and sipped appreciatively. "We need to bring some of this back to replicate."

"Mmm" he agreed, looking at her over the rim of his cup.

"Do you think you'll finish this afternoon?" She asked, when they were rising from the table.

"It appears so. Most of the heated details were hashed over in this morning's session. We should have the final draft done for everyone to take home tonight to read over, and then ratification tomorrow." His hand drifted to the small of her back as he gestured her ahead of him through the doorway. He found familiar StarFleet issue uniform under his touch, but remembered freckles and satiny warmth from the night before.

They walked out of the Capitol into the plaza. Each raised a hand to shield their eyes against the bright white heat of twin suns. "There's my shuttle." She said, half-turning to him. I'll be gathering samples this afternoon. Our 'tour guide' has been lovely."

He smiled at her, but it seemed a little forced due to squinting, the brightness of the day light exacerbated by the contrast from the darkness inside the building. "Since we missed breakfast, will you join me for dinner?" He was scanning the plaza as they walked.

"I'd love to." She said simply. "Just call for me when you are ready." They were walking toward the land shuttle, his hand at her elbow to steady her for the step up.

Then chaos erupted.


	5. Chapter 5

Jean-Luc was on Beverly's left, his right hand lightly supporting her elbow. Just as they stepped into the shadow of the shuttle, an inarticulate shout sounded near them. He turned his head to the left to see what the problem was, and in a heartbeat, she was gone from his grasp.

He instinctively reached for a phaser that wasn't there.

Rainbow colours seemed to swirl in the blazing noonday glare as Omnians moved in on the disruption. The four Enterprise Security Officers gathered close around their Captain, phasers discreetly held at waist height.

Then the crowd pushed back, creating an opening...

Beverly stood a few feet away, her back drawn up to the front of a burly Omnian. The top of her head did not reach his chin. His talons curled into delicate contact with critical points of her neck, three of them resting along her jugular vein, the opposing claw settled on her carotid artery. He might as well have held her at the point of a laser scalpel or a razor blade.

Time seemed to stop for Jean-Luc. His eyes met hers. She was afraid, but resolve and trust shone through. He could see the love they had denied each other for so long, for so many reasons...

When she had walked away from him, he had let her go. He had, admittedly, a small measure of relief at the time. She was right, maybe they *should* be afraid. The scrutiny, the accusations of favoritism... it would not have been an easy path.

He was a foolish, prideful old man who had not seen what was right in front of him. The speculation around their relationship abounded, most of it inaccurate, they *already* were under the microscope. Kes-Pryt had only added fuel to the fire.

The irony, of course, was they were denying themselves that which they were being damned for. What he never realized was how many of his crew actually felt they were destined for each other, and wished them well.

It had always been more obvious to those around them that the connection was already there. The fact that they slept in separate cabins, that they denied themselves, did not change the link.

The link was apparent enough an enemy had honed in on it; In the space of a heartbeat, had grabbed Beverly, held her life in his hands. Struck at Captain Jean-Luc Picard's most vulnerable weakness.

And every belief the Captain had ever held about strength and propriety crumbled in the face of his culpability for her peril. He faltered, he froze. All he could see were her sapphire eyes, gazing at him with confidence, devoid of any fear.

"Captain Picard," her captor spoke, his words loud and gravelly, "You will change the treaty to reflect the demands of the people, not these sell-out politicians."

Some Omnian peacekeepers had shown up and began to push forward at the words. Jean-Luc motioned them to hold their position. A nervous flinch by the hostage-taker, and a thin trickle of bright red blood traced down Beverly's neck.

She looked at Jean-Luc. His face was an implacable mask. The Federation did not  
>negotiate with terrorists. Only she could read the stark fear in his eyes.<br>She waited, alert for the right moment, confident in her training, in her crewmates. Waited for a movement, a signal, a sign of weakness from the enemy...

"I am not authorized to negotiate with anyone but the appointed parties." The Captain's voice was strong, masking his emotion. His gaze was locked on hers. He could not let himself see the thin line of red on her vulnerable throat. He willed his confidence in her to transmit through his look. Inside, his heart ached. _Beverly... this was Beverly... _

The onlooking crowd murmured at the exchange. A muffled shout of "Terrorist!" went up. The captor turned his face to scan the onlookers for the source of the heckle.

The Captain's security detail lived up to their training. Prompt, precise action and the life-and-death drama ended as suddenly as it began. The moment his attention diverted, two of them raised their phasers and shot. The Omnian dropped...

Beverly was spun out of her captor's grasp; the breath left Jean-Luc's lungs in a whoosh...

He reached her side, she was already moving to sit up. Relief overwhelmed caution, and he drew her to him, hands gently, frantically searching for injury. Fingertips brushed the crimson line on her throat, the bleeding had already stopped.

"I'm fine.. I'm fine Jean-Luc." Her voice finally made it through his terror. His hands stilled, he searched her face, trying to affirm her words. "I'm OK. Just caught a stun on my shoulder." She raised her uninjured arm, her hand rested on his jaw.

He raised his own hand to cover hers, to hold hers against him. His eyes searched her face. He turned, his lips finding her palm.

Eyes met, held. He cursed himself for wasting so long worrying about things that were not important. If their connection already was so obvious, why were they still apart? And it was so clear to him now. His life would be shattered without her.

Reality was a blur of motion, the security detail closed ranks around them and they shimmered back to the Enterprise. He made her go to Sickbay, he didn't quite order it, but she could not refuse him when he said "please," and his voice broke. An analgesic and muscle relaxant later, and she was prescribed rest and to take a day off before returning to duty.

To her amazement, he was there when she walked out of Sickbay. Just getting off the lift. She thought he must need something for his report... or...? Her heart bumped when it crossed her mind that he might be injured. "Jean-Luc?"

"You've discharged yourself already, then?" Relief poured through her at his words, followed closely by worry of a different sort.

"I have. What are you doing here?" He had reached her side. He found himself unable to stop his hand from lightly touching her unimpaired left arm.

"We need to talk."

Her stomach clenched. She knew how this would go... he would apologize for his kiss (her palm still tingled at the thought,) and explain how any kind of relationship could only end up in situations like this...

Wordlessly, she followed him to his cabin. Inside, they sat, he on her left. Tea remained untouched before them, instead, he reached for her hand.

He played with her fingers lightly. The hypospray had relieved the pain in her shoulder, but left her muscles heavy, languid. She dreaded what would come next.

"I owe you an apology." His first words, spoken quietly, were unexpected.

He lifted his eyes from their entwined hands, and met hers. "You were right."

She waited, perplexed. "Maybe we should be afraid."

She felt as if all the blood left her heart and sank down into her legs. She lowered her eyes to their hands. They fit so perfectly together... but there never seemed to be a time for them, a time when both of them were on the same page.

"We should be afraid of wasting this precious gift. There is nothing more valuable than time, once it is spent-or wasted-we can never get it back. I have wasted far too much time Beverly... "

He turned, facing her fully. Raised his other hand to trace the line of her throat which had been stained with her blood. His touch felt like a benediction.

Tears pushed beyond her control. "I am so sorry, Jean-Luc. I never, never meant to hurt you."

His dear, dear face drew nearer to hers. When his lips found her temple, she was jolted into action. Without thought she scrambled into his lap, into his arms. Much to her chagrin, however, rather than romance, reaction from the day's events set in, with a trembling she could not suppress.

Carefully he wrapped her in his embrace. She pushed into his warmth. Eventually the storm passed and she relaxed against him.

They talked for hours, then just remained together in the comfortable silence. She drifted off to sleep at some point, and did not argue when he lifted her and placed her in his bed. She only spoke when he attempted to leave her there... "Stay?"

"As long as you'll have me." He whispered, slipping in behind her.


	6. Epilogue

The two of them lay for long minutes, each trying to not disturb the other. Finally the Captain's hand moved soothingly against her... The Doctor allowed a deep sigh.

She turned to face him. "Shouldn't you have gone back planetside to finish the treaty?" Her hands found their way to his warm, hard chest.

"There were more important negotiations here. The planet has waited millenia, another day won't hurt." His hands found their way to her hips, drawing her back to him. Her eyes widened.

She let one hand entwine around the back of his neck, fingers brushing the silk bristle of his hair.

"I won't let you leave this time, Beverly." His voice was grave, his eyes smouldering with need.

"You would-" He started to protest, she shushed him with her fingers on his lips. "You _would_ if I asked. And that is why I love you."

She arched her back, bringing them closer, from chest to thigh. "And I do love you, Jean-Luc. I always have."

"You'll stay this time." It wasn't a question. One hand found it's way up under her tank top, finding that familiar back. She shivered under his touch.

"I will stay." Her lips found his.

Negotiations on the long term alliance started quite constructively.


End file.
